Ten days in October 1917: the Bolsheviks seized power in Russia, and startled the world with the completeness and success of their revolution – and therefore John Reed’s 1919 book Ten Days That Shook the World is nothing if not well-titled. Reed is a brilliant journalist and writer who has written a compelling book; and as far as I am concerned, he was dead wrong about virtually everything.
First, the good news. Reed is a careful observer and a fine writer with a gift for the compelling image, the well-turned phrase; he appeals to all the senses in letting the reader know what he experienced in Petrograd and Moscow while the Bolsheviks took power from the more conservative Provisional Government that had ruled for seven months following the overthrow of Tsar Nicholas II earlier that year.
(Calendar note: the Bolshevik Revolution occurred in November 1917 by our Gregorian/New Style calendar, but in October 1917 by the Julian/Old Style calendar that was still in use in Russia at that time. It is for that reason that the high-tech submarine in Tom Clancy’s bestseller is called Red October rather than Red November. But I digress.)
The book also provides a fascinating, first-hand look at the leaders of the Bolsheviks who seized power in Russia and launched the Soviet experiment that would have such a dramatic impact upon the history of the 20th century. Here, for example, is Reed’s portrait of Lenin: “A short, stocky figure, with a big head set down in his shoulders, bald and bulging. Little eyes, a snubbish nose, wide, generous mouth, and heavy chin; clean-shaven now, but already beginning to bristle with the well-known beard of his past and future. Dressed in shabby clothes, his trousers much too long for him. Unimpressive, to be the idol of a mob” (p. 170). Reed captures well Lenin’s coldness of personality, his status as “a leader purely by virtue of intellect; colourless, humourless, uncompromising and detached” (p. 171). Comparably compelling is Reed’s picture of Trotsky, “standing up with a pale, cruel face, letting out his rich voice in cool contempt” (p. 131); “calm and venomous” (p. 181); “confident and dominating, with that sarcastic expression about his mouth which was almost a sneer” (p. 189).
Relatively overlooked in Reed’s book – he is mentioned only twice – is “Chairman for Nationalities: I.V. Djugashvili (Stalin)” (p. 186). The man whose name appears at the end of a “Declaration of the Rights of the Peoples of Russia” as “Yussov Djugashvili-Stalin” (p. 345); the man whom a dying Lenin wanted removed from power; the man who had Trotsky murdered in Mexico in 1940 – is hardly a presence in the book at all. If Reed had not died of typhus in 1920, at the age of 32; if he had lived to see Stalin’s rise to power, the Soviet famine of 1932-33, the Great Purge of 1936-39, the Terror that followed the Second World War – might he have looked back differently at what he wrote in Ten Days That Shook the World?
Reed is hardly a disinterested, objective observer. He was in Russia as a committed socialist; indeed, his carrying of papers given him by the Bolsheviks was the only reason he was able to visit many of the places he visited during those ten days. Consequently, he has a vested interest in the success of the Bolsheviks, and there are many, many examples of special pleading on behalf of his Red allies.
In Reed’s recounting of the October Revolution, the Bolsheviks are simply incapable of the atrocities that we know occurred on all sides during the revolutionary turmoil in Russia. Could the Provisional Government, in Reed’s view of the October Revolution, have committed atrocities? No doubt, if not for their basic incompetence. The Constitutional Democrats (Cadets)? Yes, absolutely; as far as Reed is concerned, atrocities are what the Cadets lived for! But the Bolsheviks? Unthinkable! No group of people so ideologically pure could possibly do anything wrong or underhanded. The idea!
Reed demonstrates a comparable degree of ideology-induced blindness in ignoring the hypocrisy of the Soviets’ pretending to offer national self-determination to all the peoples of Russia, and then declaring those who sought national self-determination – the people of Ukraine, of Poland, of Finland – to be “counter-revolutionaries.” Well, gracious, isn’t that convenient?
At the same time, Reed is intellectually honest enough to include an abundance of primary-source documents, many of which often contradict his confident advocacy of the Bolsheviks’ infallibility as morally just avatars of world socialist revolution. One senses here the story that Reed is not telling – the cynical manner in which the Bolsheviks used manipulation, propaganda, and brute force to seize power.
The Modern Library edition of Ten Days That Shook the World that I have before me includes a helpful introduction that places Reed’s work in the context of its time. Appropriately, the editor emphasizes the disillusionment that Reed experienced when he saw how the Bolsheviks actually wielded the power he had so wanted them to gain – an experience well dramatized in Warren Beatty’s film Reds (1981).
Ten Days That Shook the World is a fascinating book, particularly if you have a strong interest in Russian history. Reading it at a time when Vladimir Putin’s Russia has been flexing its muscles in neighboring countries like Ukraine, Moldova, and the Republic of Georgia, I found it hard not to wonder about the extent to which the past might be prologue.